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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28927350">It's quiet now (now that the storm is gone)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/muffin_headed/pseuds/muffin_headed'>muffin_headed</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, My First Work in This Fandom, Nightmares, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Toby Smith | Tubbo, Protective TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo Has PTSD, Toby Smith | Tubbo Needs a Hug, TommyInnit Has PTSD (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), dream traumatized my two favorite 16 yrs olds, i do not ship minors, projection pog, so imma write about it, this is all platonic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:28:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,597</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28927350</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/muffin_headed/pseuds/muffin_headed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard to sleep when all you see is his smile</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Or</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy and Tubbo are pretty traumatized by Dream and need a hug</p>
<p>(Set in the aftermath of the Finale)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>No Romantic Relationship(s), hippity hoppity get the pedos off my property, we don't ship minors here - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>247</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>It's quiet now (now that the storm is gone)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ayo who else was feeling punched in the freaking gut after watching the Finale o/</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Say bye-bye, Tommy.”</p>
<p>Tommy’s mind is reeling, racing to find a solution. His eyes flicker around the bedrock-and-obsidian-lined room, searching fruitlessly for an exit, though he knows there is none. The elevator is gone, and Dream stands between them and the portal. They’re trapped--or Tommy is. </p>
<p>Dream tightens his grip on Tubbo’s hair, pulling his head back to expose his throat. Tubbo winces as the blade digs deeper into his flesh, tears slipping down his cheeks.</p>
<p>Tommy’s stomach flips, his fists clenching, mind racing.</p>
<p>“Dream--Dream, stop! Leave him alone, please!” Tommy shouts, stepping forward. But he stops as soon as he sees Dream shift the sword, poised to kill.</p>
<p>“Tommy, it’s okay,” Tubbo croaks, his voice small, afraid. But he lifts his lips in a watery smile. Tommy’s heart seizes, then leaps to his throat as Dream, in a movement so quick he would have missed it if he blinked, slices his sword across Tubbo’s throat, and the boy goes limp, and Tommy can only watch as his best friend’s, his brother’s, last life is ripped from him.</p>
<p>A scream tears out of his throat, and Tubbo’s body swims in front of him, fat drops falling onto Tubbo’s cold, bloodied cheek. </p>
<p>The world races around him, whirling into a swirl of bedrock and blood and pain and green, green, green hoodies and button-ups and smiling white masks. His heart aches a ferocious kind of ache, filling him to the brim with an ugly mixture of rage and sorrow. The smile on Dream’s mask seems to stretch, stretch, stretch until it’s all Tommy can see, all he can hear is his own scream, torn around the edges and battered and broken until his throat gives out.</p>
<p>And then he’s falling, falling, falling, feeling the wind whip through his hair and past his fingertips, waiting to hit the ground, for the sweet release, and yet dreading the impact. He’s surprised when he doesn’t feel a hard ground--instead, it’s hot, hot burning lava, burning and bubbling and sizzling, and Tommy jolts--</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy jolts upwards, his chest heaving, eyes flickering around the dark room, looking for Dream, for the redstone lamps and the bedrock, for Tubbo--</p>
<p>Tubbo’s dead body, his bloody corpse sprawled on the ground, his dead eyes staring up at the obsidian ceiling, never going to see the sky again.</p>
<p>Bile creeps up his throat and he lunges for the bucket laying beside his bed, dumping out the handful of water and leaning forward, gasping and retching until he has nothing left. </p>
<p>The room stinks now, turning his empty stomach. He wrinkles his nose and stands, preparing to leave, but his legs won’t lift him up, too shaky to support him.</p>
<p>Fuck. With a groan, he pulls himself up, using his bed as a stabilizer, and stumbles toward the door, leaning against the wall.</p>
<p>His nerves are on high alert, and he’s aware of every noise, every shadow in the room. His footsteps fade from the creaking wooden steps to the crunching of grass and dirt as he enters the main room. His heart pounds in his ears, expecting to see Dream standing near the wall, all cocky and smiling and shit. But all he walks into is an empty room, with furnaces and chests lined up against the wall, and the soft whirring of the ender chest fills the silence beside Tommy’s slow footfalls.</p>
<p>He looks to the door to his right, to the room he lent to Tubbo, door closed and quiet and still. There’s no sound, not even Tubbo’s soft snores or a bed creaking. Aside from the soft whirring of the ender chest on the other side of the room, it’s deadly quiet. Too quiet.</p>
<p>He almost wants to scream, just so that he can hear something, but his throat closes before he can even open his mouth. Worry creeps into his mind, blurring his vision, shaking his fingers. </p>
<p>Is Tubbo okay?</p>
<p>Check on Tubbo.</p>
<p>Keep him safe.</p>
<p>Safe.</p>
<p>He didn’t even realize he was at Tubbo’s door until he was pushing it open, the creaking loud and invasive in the silence of the house. </p>
<p>The bed creaks, and he hears the rustling of a blanket, but he can’t see, can only hear Tubbo as his breath speeds up, quieting until Tommy thinks he misheard. Is Tubbo even here?</p>
<p>“Tubbo?” God, his voice is so quiet. It’s too quiet, Tommy isn’t quiet.</p>
<p>“Oh, it’s--” Tubbo lets out a breath, as if in relief. He wonders if Tubbo worries, too. If he’s afraid. “You good, big man?”</p>
<p>“I’m--” his exhales shake on the way out, his gut churning. “I--no, I’m…” </p>
<p>His fist clenches around the door, the wood digging into his skin. That’s why I’m tearing up. Yeah, that’s why.</p>
<p>His eyes slip closed. Don’t fucking cry, big men don’t cry. He’s fine, he’s right here. Tubbo’s okay, just walk away.</p>
<p>“Can I sleep here tonight?”</p>
<p>The question leaves his mouth before he even let the thought form, but hearing it aloud, feeling it reverberate around the room causes his heart to leap into his throat, makes the churning in his gut increase to the point he fears he might get sick again. Why did I ask that, of course he’ll say no, idiot, you’re being weird, just go away--</p>
<p>“Of course, Tommy. It’s your house, I’m just sleeping here. Do you want me to leave?”</p>
<p>“No, you’re okay. I--I’ll leave, sorry,” Tommy backpedals out of the room and slams the door closed, ignoring the shuffling he hears from the other side of the door.</p>
<p>“Tommy!” Tubbo opens the door, and in the moonlight leaking in through the small windows, Tommy takes in Tubbo’s haggard appearance. His green button-up is rumpled, and his usually-ruffled hair is sticking up in all directions. He looks like he just lost a wrestling match with his pillow. His eyes are wide, paranoid, darting around the room to Tommy and back again, like he’s waiting for something to pop out of the shadows--waiting for someone.</p>
<p>He can’t blame him. He looks around like he’s waiting for him, too.</p>
<p>“You can sleep here, if you want.”</p>
<p>“I’m--I’m okay, I promise,” Tommy grabs at his sleeves, curling tighter around himself. Tubbo’s eyes soften at the sight, and Tommy looks away, feeling shame burn at the back of his neck. He’s pathetic for this, for needing something to hold, for needing Tubbo. He’s a dick for waking him up for this.</p>
<p>“Please, Tommy?”</p>
<p>His blue eyes flicker up to Tubbo, and he’s surprised to see Tubbo looks almost as sad and lost and afraid as he is. After a moment of just staring, Tubbo opens his arms, a silent offer (a plea). </p>
<p>An understanding pass through each other, and Tommy leans forward until his shoulders bump Tubbo’s and he lowers his head until his nose is nested in the crook of Tubbo’s neck, feeling his pulse beat against his cheek, and he sags, nearly limp in Tubbo’s arms as the smaller boy wraps his arms around his shoulders, practically holding him up.</p>
<p>Tommy’s fingers uncurl around his own sleeves and he fists his hand in Tubbo’s shirt, pulling him closer, desperately trying to feel his warmth, to prove to himself that Tubbo is here, he’s safe, he’s okay, he’s alive.</p>
<p>He didn’t even realize he was crying until he felt a wet drop on his shoulder, and he realizes that Tubbo is crying, too.</p>
<p>He chuckles, his voice far too thick for his liking, “Crybaby,” as if he isn’t clinging to Tubbo like he’s his life support, with tears streaking down his cheeks and eyes red and puffy.</p>
<p>Tubbo giggles, his voice watery, and tightens his hold on Tommy, burrowing his face in his shoulder. “That’s me, ‘Crybaby Tubbo’.”</p>
<p>A pause. A sniffle. “Can I sleep here for tonight?”</p>
<p>“Of course, Tommy,”</p>
<p>Tubbo loosens his hold, and Tommy’s heart leaps to his throat, his arms tightening around Tubbo almost automatically.</p>
<p>“Pfft, Tommy,” Tubbo snorts, “I need to move, we have to walk to the bed,”</p>
<p>“I don’t wanna let go,”</p>
<p>It’s barely audible, muffled in Tubbo’s shoulder, but he hears it, and his heart breaks at the soft murmur. He gulps, the sound so loud in the quiet. “Okay, then. We’ll--we’ll shuffle, then, yeah?”</p>
<p>And they do. They shuffle into the room, tripping over each other’s feet and holding onto each other like a lifeline the whole trip.</p>
<p>“It’s like a dance!” Tubbo laughs, to which Tommy snorts.</p>
<p>“Don’t be weird, man,”</p>
<p>Tommy’s shin bumps against the bed frame, and they’re falling back onto the mattress, still clutching the other, though they have to roll to the side so that they don’t headbutt each other upon impact.</p>
<p>Tubbo pulls out the blanket from beneath them, dragging Tommy underneath it. Said boy doesn’t do anything but hold Tubbo, pulling him closer as soon as he settles beneath the sheets.</p>
<p>Several minutes pass, the only sound being the occasional sniffle or hiccup, and Tommy just savors Tubbo’s warmth, marveling at the fact that Tubbo is alive, he’s alive. Dream can’t hurt him, not anymore. Even if he can still see that stupid smile when he closes his eyes, he knows that Tubbo’s okay, so he is, too. He will be.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Tubbo,” he was so quiet, mumbling just underneath his breath, and when he doesn’t hear anything in response, he thinks Tubbo didn’t hear him, or he fell asleep, but after a moment, he hears him, just as quiet as he was.</p>
<p>“You’re welcome, Toms. Any time.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Not me trying to write through the writers block</p>
<p>I hope you liked the story, thank you for reading! Have a wonderful day, buh-bye!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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